Grey Skies Over Blue Ridge Summit
by Class Cheetah
Summary: Rouge Spies, National Treasures, and Old World Intrigue! Set against the colorful backdrop of the 2250's.
1. Prologue

**2198** FOT APA MK II, **2220** APA MKII COMPLETED FO2?, **2235** DEATHCLAW RESEARCH, **2241** CONTROL STATION ENCLAVE DESTROYED, **2246** ENCLAVE BROTHERHOOD WAR

 **Emergency Vertibird Refueling Station; Somewhere outside D.C.**

"And so what you're saying, Commander. Is that this so-called Vault Zero Project has been successfully recovered? All assets moved into the hands of the Enclave and all remains…dealt with." A dark figure skimmed the edge of the rectangular oak table, where some dozen Enclave Officers sat in a cloud of cigar smoke. A large halo light illuminated the surface of the table, but not much else.

It had been over 50 years since the recovery was made; with little or no knowledge of it being made public. Long years spent on the run from NCR and Brotherhood of Steel in hot pursuit. Here sat a contingent of West Coast Remnants, ready to be welcomed home by their East Coast Command.

"Sir. It has been confirmed. Evidence was planted at the recovery site and falsified reports made. All hands point to an unknown origin, something…inorganic. Our plans to move forward here in the East can continue."

"Bring me up to speed." Said one of the Remnants, still wearing the outdated advanced power armor, so iconic in the west, as it was the epitome of law, and justice.

There was a shuffling of papers, as the officers readjusted their positions and glanced around at one another. Like the final hand in a poker game, no one was ready to reveal their own hand in the matter; that of how this project had been covered up for so long. Of how such a technology had almost ended up in a misguided Brotherhood of Steel encounter out in some desolate place like Chicago, a place they shouldn't have been in the first place.

"As well as you know, it was mainly a testing ground for our now refurbished Mark Two Advanced Power Armor. Which has now been in service almost two decades. With no design drawbacks. Only to be superseded by the new Hellfire Power Armor, nearly finished at Adams Airforce Base, as we speak. The duraframe material has exceeded our expectations. So much so that the E-Dee project has been canceled all together in light of this new progress." A steely haired man took a sip of water from a glass and set it precariously on the edge of the table, before refilling it.

"Ahem..As I was saying…"

"You mean to say that our station in Colorado was correct? That there was an attempt to intercept and recover our plans for the new mark two? That these…sub-form denizens nearly succeeded in capturing the means to upgrade their OWN armors?"

"Yes. That is correct. Lieutenant. Our encounters and interrogations with the rouge Brotherhood of Steel members near St. Louis has indicated that they posses the means to manufacture and repair a wide array of robotics. And are getting very proficient at it. Yet do not possess any way to manufacture NEW armors, as such as the Base Crawler, or Site 'R'. Be thankful for that. However…" The man looked around and put a lit cigar back in his mouth, pacing slowly to the window and splitting the shades to see the refueling of the fleet in action.

Ours is but a dread not seen coming. He thought.

"…Yes Captain?"

"Our scans show some hot spots in the old department of defense building, D.C. This is all backed up by our superiors at Site R. I'm sure they will shed some light on the situation, once we arrive there." Said the Captain, a sigh not audible escaping his mouth. Finally some respite.

"Negative. We are to relocate directly to the Satellite Relay Station. From there the auxiliary troops will move on foot en route to SatCom, nu-upsilon, oh-seven-Chi." Came a complaint. A voice so dry, showing not a trace of compassion, of remorse, or noting how long this journey had been in the first place.

"You would dare throw orders in the face of President John Henry Eden, of Colonel Autumn? We are to report back immediately to Site R. There will be no further discussion on the matter. Or shall I call him right now to-"

There was a sudden shockwave felt throughout the room as the sound of a 14mm pistol was fired directly into the air. Hardly a person shuddered.

"Lock it down Captain. I'm senior officer, I am giving the orders. This was just a formality. This unit is to to be folded into MY command. They've come here the same as everyone else." The man holstered the pistol as two sentries came into the room.

"We heard small arms fire. Everything O.K. sir?" one of the armored men said.

"Everything is fine. Notify me when we are ready to lift off."

"Roger."

The man looked back at the Captain. The table of officers was silent, a few choking on the smoke in the room, which had started to dissipate. The Captain stared back at the commanding officer; his lean figure was tucked in a freshly pressed suit. He was abnormally…normal. Dark hair, eyes…yet something seemed cold, calculating about his presence.

"You take the unit to the Satellite Relay Station and wait for further instructions. I will then accompany the rest of the unit to the Sat-Com Array."

"Sir. Now…About the situation here." Said one of the Remnants, adjusting more comfortably in his chair.

The Lieutenant stood and filled in for the Major.

"We have on record showing you have a total of twenty Vertibirds on standby. Accompanied by seventy shocktroops, forty scientists, forty engineers and onboard cargo." He looked to the Major who bade him to continue. "The shock troops are to be dispersed on a as-needed basis. Scientists will more than likely be brought back to telemetrics and deathclaw recovery programme. Welcome to your new home, Sir."

"We are a progressive family." The Captain cut in. "You have done good things for us by making it to the new home of the Enclave. It's too bad we've lost so much over the years. We may have lost our influence in the West. Yet our true home was always here, within the confines of the old world, where it all began. Here on the East Coast."

The Remnants grinned, silently. It sounded like words of a coward, beat-down and left limping home. Yet somehow rang true. Washington D.C. New York. Boston. Philadelphia. Names all but lost, when their great-grandparents still knew the tall presence those name brought. And now, thanks to the Enclave, might still endure.

"We staff nearly one thousand personal at the moment. As you can imagine, resources are tied up. There are talks however of this Water purification unit at the Jefferson Memorial. However…" The Captain was shaking his head slowly at the lieutenant, slightly covering his mouth with one of his hands. "…However our scouts report nothing definitive and that the unit must be broken."

"Let me get this straight…" A remnant stood, tilted his head slightly at the Major. "We have the means to manufacture new advanced power armor. New Weapons. New materials, even…We have all this. We've come so far away from our home in the West, to this…Capitol Wasteland. And for what?!" He slammed his fist down in the air as the other remnants rose to their feet, the sound of energy weapons buzzing to life. "You mean to say, we don't even posses a G.E.C.K.?"

"Negative. But there is one in Vault 87." Said the Major, nonchalantly.

"And why haven't we recovered it?"

"Vault 87 is so irradiated at its core, it would melt even our Mark Two. It is why we have endeavored with the Hellfire prototype. We believe it can withstand such levels of radiation. But until the project is completed, we have no means to retrieve it."

"Excuse me Major." He signaled his men to stand-down. "It has been a long trip to make. What you see before you is sadly one of the largest units left standing after the wars. I was twenty two when the Rig was blown up. Thirty seven when the Brotherhood and NCR attacked Navarro. I'm now forty seven. My unit is mostly men younger than me, but no less loyal. Our families have carried on the traditions, yet when we finally had the means to make it here, we knew it was our destiny." The man sat back down and relit his cigar. The Captain reached over and poured him a glass of water.

"We know it has been a long journey. But we have the means to reclaim this place." He leaned towards the Major. "Sounds like he's gone tribal, doesn't he?"

The Major only grinned, his face expressionless, which hid his hatred of this place, this situation.

"It was your duty." Came the words of the Major.

"Yes sir. That's what I had meant."

"Now. Back to the matters at hand. The Mark Two has improved audio sensors able to scan a wide range of ultra low, high, and able to pick up all radio freq.'s, relaying them back on visual sensors mounted in the eyepiece…" The Lieutenant continued to read from memory, all of the specifications of the new suit, a feat, that was a mainstay to survival.

The men listened to the Lietenant; their heads cocked and and eyes turned up in fascination. Only the Captain hung his head, slowly letting the information be imbibed to his very soul; the means to control this very slab of civilization, for the betterment of the life organism as a whole.


	2. Chapter 1

**Mission Control, Site R.**

The steel walls glistened sterile, while the lights gave the room a bright shine, not even shadows were visible. Site R: One of the best maintained bunkers pre and post war. Up to date with the latest facilities. It kept the water clean and running, and grew it's own food in vast amounts. It housed some of the most sophisticated bio labs even before the bombs fell, as well as high tech assembly lines and vertibird hangars. It really was a city, yet not quite a vault, it was much more advanced.

The living situation was comparable to living back on The Poseidon Oil Rig. Which in turn, was like living in a snow globe of sorts. Sure some of the corridors were much more reminiscent of something you'd find on a giant ship, with grated steel walkways and paneling, and where lights were mostly kept dim. Yet otherwise there was a plethora of things to keep oneself feeling from being "locked indoors", a sort of pre-war ingenuity for the engineers and personnel who ran operations who weren't allowed to leave the site.

There was a sort of town square and main plaza; where stood a small wooden gazebo for musicians and rallies all complete with an indoor garden (with artificial streams and park benches), and small boutiques for shopping, not always full of stock yet the windows were always adorned with colorful things to buy, nonetheless.

All said and done it was an isolated and warm place to be, compared to being stuck high and dry in the wasteland. Living quarters were nothing to write home about, but accommodated small fineries from the old world. When the rooms were cleaned on Wednesday, they'd leave small rations of candies on the bed. There were even pieces of art on the walls. And not just random art, but depicting the world that had all been destroyed. Being built in its prime; The early 1900's, thru the 1940's, all the high rise building and skyscrapers, even signed black and white photographs of movie stars and famous personas.

Captain Hall sat combing his freshly cut hair. He took life in the small allowances the Enclave gave to him; fresh food, clean water, clean clothes, maybe some free time to spend with his kid, when the situation alert was below yellow. It was the routine that kept him sane. It was the sanity that kept him alive. He was turning thirty seven this month and the years had been good to the captain. A broad shouldered man, with a good sensibility of taste; which caused a lot of his problems. Stipends spent on the best clothes, and edibles, among other things, hard to come by. One such thing was his vintage gold plated analogue watch that he carried, which had been inlaid with silver and platinum, very rare. Meticulous as he was.

He sat at the conference table with one other: A West Coast Sergeant, whom everyone just called "Mother". Not exactly his cup of tea. He was, what he would refer to as small-minded and shallow, in many aspects. Hadn't it been for his affiliation with the Enclave in the first place, he'd just as soon shoot him as he would a mangy dog, seen peddling thru the many deserted towns. Mother however, knew one thing in life; how to make life a living Hell for his enemies.

They had just been briefed on their mission. To infiltrate the National Archives and meet up with their contact for further instruction. Big whoop. Instead of saying top secret, it should be posted suicide and postmarked to the burial plot.

It had been a slow couple of years, with nothing much going on but regular drills and a few maintenance issues. It was not really known whether people of the Capitol Wasteland even knew of their presence in Site R. This secrecy was to be maintained at all costs. This Mission was to be regarded as above top secret, no special equipment was to be issued, in case of failure. No one ever had much to go on as far as mission details for the sole purpose of maintaining neutrality of their operations, at least for the time being.

"You look like a slimy banker, chuck." heckled Mother, climbing into his own suit of dirty patchwork pockets and overalls. He wiped some grease off the rags and used it to slick his blond hair back. He looked at the Captain in a worn dirty pre-war suit, modified, but indeed leaving him looking a bit smaller in stature.

"You know the drill Mother." Said the Captain holstering a hidden revolver in a sling, looking at the sergeant, creases began to unfurl in his forehead. He'd be just the type to blow this whole operation saying just the wrong thing. Hard to believe since he hardly knew that much to begin with. "We'll be released somewhere around the Old Montgomery Reservoir, and proceed south into downtown D.C., shouldn't be more than a week."

Mother shrugged. He was a brute of a man, with a large square jaw that jutted out like a deathclaw. He must be nearly 240lbs, the captain thought. He had heard of his monstrous ways of dealing with wastelanders and of his "unique" interrogation techniques. Which left him feeling a bit vulnerable, having to be out in the waste with him.

"Yeah. By the looks of our rations, it looks like it should take no longer than an hour or two." Mother said, as he was busy throwing the rations into the knapsack. He was not happy about this operation; said he just came from a similar fate. Yet he was certainly the most qualified. "Of course they really spared no expense at outfitting us…" He was busy hoisting up his own firearm, which seemed to fall apart in pieces onto the table. "Damn ballistic weapons! Every time! Damn!" It was a well known fact that projectiles weapons were sloppy, inefficient, and far more unreliable than energy weapons.

"Lets go. Our ride just set down." Said Hall pointing to the lift lowering the Vertibird.

It was a brisk flight and quick drop off at the foothills north of the reservoir and still farther north of a small power house. They were both used to such rides and didn't take the precautions of strapping in for the ride. Instead they swaggered to and fro inside the cargo area till they were back on solid ground. It made you always feel like a kid, swooping around; ready to conquer the world.

It was a treacherous time. Hall always felt the most vulnerable right after getting off the vertibird, like an ambush had been set up, and was just waiting for him to step into the damn thing. It took nearly the entire walk to the reservoir before he started to feel somewhat safe. Meanwhile, Mother had not said a word the entire time. Just keeping in pace with the Captain. But finally they caught a glimpse of the old water tanks. Such a waste.

Hall groped around in his suit and pulled a pair of old binoculars out. "There it is. Looks like about half a dozen raiders and…" He looked over to Mother who had a digital scope locked in on the reservoir. He was nearly gawking at the insubordination of his Sergeant, but remained cool, better to start this operation out right.

"Copy. I count seven. They're talking about the water situation-"

Suddenly Hall swiped the scope and threw it behind them, hearing in bounce around on some rocks.

"What the hell are you doing!" Whispered Mother craning his head and gritting saliva thru his teeth. Captain Hall stared intently at his Sergeant, pissed. A slight wind kicking up.

"You know the rules Mother…" Just the type of shenanigans he was worried about. Have mercy. Mother just mouthed 'FUCK YOU', and they kept moving, low against the foothills, trying to circumvent the reservoir.

They crept slowly, not wanting to get stuck in the valley to the west or run up against some bluffs to far east. It seemed they'd have to sneak directly thru the old reservoir. They stopped to consider ducking through an old abandoned farm house, but that would be another hour at least. Finally they decided to scale a small cliff face and monitor the area first.

It had taken the better part of an hour to reach the top, bypassing a old hatch to some sort of holdout. Not worth investigating. The day was unusually hot, especially with the sun not being out. Hall would usually chalk it up to strange wasteland climate change. Mother just used the term, rad-weather. Must be a West Coast thing.

"I say we make a straight shot. Eliminate the outer sentries and meet half a click down the road." Mother said lowering the glass, handing the binoculars over to Hall. They stood overlooking the reservoir from the base of the old broadcasting tower.

"Negative. We wait till dark and go from there." Together they sat back and inspected what gear they had: 100' of rope, carabiners, anchors. Two packs of Radaway, Four Stimpacks, two lengths of rubber tubing, a bottle of antibiotics, one combat knife, two switchblades, a set of lock picking tools, six bottles of purified water, two cans of spam, a few fresh apples, a small can of fresh coffee, a small calibre pistol with 25 rounds, a chinese assault rifle with 50 rounds, one frag grenade, a pair of binoculars and one bottle of nuka cola quantum, for bartering.

Night was upon them very quickly once the sun had set behind the mountains. Then everything changed. Freezing temperatures, howling windstorms, nocturnal killers. It would have been a much harsher environment had they not spent their entire lives in the Enclave. Yet without all their equipment, they felt more like frontiersmen.

They had watched the raiders the entire time, lying flat high up on the bluff, Mother grumbling something about geckoes as he'd raise his rifle and pretend to shoot the raiders making remarks like, "ka-pow, gotcha, punk". It was useless to see a hell of a lot now that it was dark, yet the stars shone brilliant in the sky. Sometimes Hall wondered what some of the harder to see constellations were, a hobby of sorts that he had hardly enough time to pursue. Suddenly there was commotion down in the raider post. Screams were heard as gunfire rang out.

"The Sam Hill is going on down there? Hand me that glass Mother!" Hall whispered urgently, groping for the binoculars, dragging his hand across Mother's face.

"Hold on one damn minute!" The Sergeant grabbed Hall's hand so tightly he thought it would break a finger, or two. "Gunfire is all around…No one is returning gunfire….Maybe it's a coup."

"Shut up and give me those!" The Captain swiped them from Mother's hands. He could see the gunfire was scattered, but the raiders were grouping together in a makeshift defensive formation…something was attacking them. More screams and gunfire, then, silence. Hall spotted it first. A silhouette of a deathclaw. It slumped around the water tanks, taking a carcass by the leg and hauling it back into the wasteland. Little else struck fear like the sight of a deathclaw. However, Mother was more than a bone to chew on if things went south, Hall thought. It wasn't the largest he'd seen by a long shot; maybe just a cub learning to hunt.

"Looks like our problem's are solved, Sergeant. Lets move!" Mother was about to protest but Hall was up in a flash already making headway down to the reservoir. All Mother could do is follow him; he was moving so fast, and not missing a step; bounding effortlessly down the slope. Mother was not so lucky and caught a loose rock and took a dive. That dog! He thought as he picked himself up and finally caught up.

"What's a matter with you?" Hall said slapping Mother on the chest, not hiding his disappointment in his aloof statement. "You want to drag that beast back here with all that commotion? Get your gear locked in." Again the protest of Mother was cut off as Hall sprinted through the reservoir to the corpses of the raiders, badly mauled. Arms, legs, and what little left of what held them all together was what they were looking at, unimpressed by the gore.

"It reminds me of those paintings by whats-his-name…" Mother reminisced.

"Careful now. This stench will bring who-knows-what by here soon. Lets skiddaddle." Hall waved his arm for the Sergeant to follow. Mother hated those words the Captain would sometime use. It made his mind lock up, and he clamped his jaw tight. It was in those moments he felt he could break Hall in two and feel no remorse. But that was the Captain, strangely upbeat around the dead.

They didn't directly follow the broken and twisted road south; yet maintained a steady bearing on the main road west. It was obviously too dangerous to head south and the better route was by the old main highway, west of their position.

The walk from the reservoir was just over nine miles. Nine miles of bleak territory. A burnt out retirement center (which they spent the night in), and the barren landscape. It didn't help that most of the time the sun was behind the clouds, giving the feeling it was almost never daytime. It was also windy that you could watch the shadows of clouds sweeping over the land so quickly it almost gave you a headache.

"Ha!" Mother called out. "Come take a lookit this! He stood in his travelers gear prodding at two dead centaurs in a pool of radioactive waste over by an old disposal site. One was stacked on the other, both dead and smelled worse than the usual decaying bodies found out here. Hall came over with a handkerchief over his mouth. "Think they died from over stimulation? Damn that's nasty." Hall glanced over at the baffling sight, and continued south. "Do you think they were posed like that?" Mother called out after him. "Captain?"

"I didn't think they could, you know…" Mother glanced around a bit after catching up and whispered, "have…or, uh, rather…"

"Will you shut the hell up Mother?!" His voice bounced hollow out into the wasteland. He had listened for the past half hour about the possible situation with the centaurs. Which was being hammered into his head, and turning into a major headache.

"I just never seen such perversions, Captain. In all my life in the wastes. Although there was that one time in Broken Hills where we came up on this group of raiders who were-"

"Were what?" The Captain growled out. They stood silent before continuing walking in deep thought.

"You know. I was thinking Captain." Mother said, chewing on a stick he had whittled down.

"Were you now."

"About those Centaurs. What if they were both of the same…orientation, wouldn't the guys back home get a laugh at that!"

"A hoot, I'm sure. I don't think they have any sexual dimorphism and therefore your quandary is really a negligible one." The captain had more than one way to tell Mother to shut his trap.

"Roger that, sir."

Up ahead at the crossroads sat a ruined diner, gnarled and chewed up, what one could say would be a ghastly sight, or at the very least, grisly. It smelled of death. And after getting horrible wafts of it's stench, there it sat. Probably once a nice little diner too. They took a knee and looked for threats. Just another raiding post.

"Let's check it out." Hall ran toward the diner and stopped under the burnt carcass hanging outside the doorway, noting the bear-traps on the steps. He peeked in and motioned for the Sergeant to cover him. They made their way in and noted how many bodies were strewn all over the red and black faded decor, or parts of bodies. Cannibals. Mother walked over and picked up a fresh corpse from the grill, waving it's arm at the captain.

"Hee-hee-hee, hi-ya captain! Sir!" He manipulated the body to salute Hall. "How's the trip going?" He shook the body making the mouth clatter up and down, till the jaw fell off. "I uh..oh, damn."

"Knock it off, Mother. Go and check the back." Ordered the Captain.

"On it." He replied, dropping the husk to the ground and making his way to the back of the diner, which had been completely demolished. It had a small bunk and a few scattered crates, nothing worth noting. He dug around looking for anything useful when he found it. An intact mini-nuke, stuffed behind a pile of wet newspapers. "Captain Hall!" But the captain was already running out the back. Pistol drawn as he lumbered around the corner.

"Raiders! Lets get going!" He said in mid flight up the hill.

"Look here, a mini-nuke!"

"Leave it!" He yelled back.

Mother grumbled and tossed the nuke back on the desk as they ran up the hill. They could hear the raiders yelling.

"Hold on Captain!" The sergeant spun around and un-slung his rifle, just as four raiders in traditional scrappy garb came charging out the back of the dilapidated building wielding butchers knives and a sledgehammer. Classic. If there was one thing you could count on out here, it was that fact that starvation and dehydration did horrible things to a person. Like make someone think that a sledgehammer would be a suitable weapon, or if you were thirsty enough, muck filled ponds of tepid water would be thirst quenching.

"Diner time, boys!" One of them yowled. The sergeant opened fire with a burst of the assault rifle, missing the raiders completely as they dove for unnecessary cover. Once they realized they hadn't been hit they jumped up and started towards them. Again the sergeant opened fire missing all four.

"The hell Mother! You're missing completely!" Yelled Hall.

"Not quite." a single shot rang out followed by a short ping and then a giant explosion of the mini-nuke. Evaporating the raiders in its blast. Mother turned around, his face red from the heat wave. "Whew. Had to aim two feet to the right to hit the bastard."

"Good to know." Hall uncovered his ears with his hands. "Got quite the tan there, Sergeant."

"And it's not even holiday yet."

They started back south by the highway.

"You know. If I was thirsty enough. I'd drink the blood of a healthy looking wastelander, Captain." Mother said as they walked towards the ruins.

"I'm surprised you haven't for the hell of it Sergeant."

"Did I ever tell you about the time in Gecko that I beat a ghoul with his own arm?"

"Ha!" The Captain tried not to laugh, but it was too late.

"Tried stealing some energy cells from me. Ripped it off and beat him stone cold."

They stopped at the edge of the hill, beyond was a single ruined building among a pile of rubble and debris. Beyond that was a small settlement and then D.C. the outline of the skeleton city scape now well defined in the morning. Shafts of light shone thru the bombed out and broke buildings, reflecting off bits of glass in some of the windows. Impressive.


	3. Chapter 2

Consider this: you've spent you're life in the comfort of stability, what else was there? Would you really trust anyone in the wasteland? If you do, you're a fool, plain and simple. A pack of cigarettes, laced with jet. Food, poisoned. Drinks, poisoned. Meetings are ambushes, help is just another word for enslavement. Yet being in the Enclave, not all of this was necessarily true. There was definitely a certain naive mindset. Which is why they chose to eliminate most opposition. They simply could not be trusted. Or worse, were prone to falling back into their usual habits.

Captain Hall, a man so entwined in the affairs of the Enclave he could have been General by now. Unfortunately, since the most senior commander was the rank of Colonel, commissions were usually not given except on extraordinary circumstances. This left most at the ranks of corporal. And most units were led by a Lieutenant most likely a sergeant, with Captains assuming a more "executive" roll.

The Captain was not so much insensitive to the horrors of this new world, but contrived them to be nuisances, most of which could be handled with signing death warrants. The wasteland and its inhabitants he saw as nothing more than untapped resources, a mindset which made him very popular, and even granted him limited audience with Autumn. Although indeed he was a father and husband, it was something to really take his mind off his work, rather than challenge him to grow as a person, so most Enclave personnel thought. In Site R, he was a stuffy persona, seemingly untouchable. Championing his family and consorting with only the most prestigious people. But now without all that bogging him down, he seemed a completely different person.

As for Mother, or his birth name, Calvin Popps, he was no doubt a weapon, built for the sole purpose of cleaning up messes and getting his hands dirty. But a child at heart. He was not a senseless killer, strangely enough, unlike Hall, he saw much beauty in the world, yet due to his status, rarely found ways to express his own viewpoints, and his brutal war record reflected everything a obedient soldier should be; ruthless and motivated. Coming from the West, was able to hold his rank of Sergeant. As it was, veteran war experience was a ugly face that he wore like a mask. It gave him personal space, no one bothered him or dare question his motives. He could put it on like a cape, appearing larger than life. Using it to create stories of his own brutal methods, to gain confidence in his superiors. Something he always hated in himself.

Perhaps this free time in the wasteland gave both of the men too much freedom and liberties. Already forgetting whom they represented.

"Mother! Look sharp! Looks like a group of locals." Hall said hanging his head pretending to be fiddling with some junk. A lone caravan approached them on the road. Confrontations happened all the time, and one would think you'd get used to the sight of armed men. Yet the tension building up to a forced meeting, could choke a fucking brahman. He hated to realize how wastelands would feel meeting Enclave soldiers. But seeing the Enclave was like seeing a beacon of hope, wasn't it?

The clattering caravan came to a halt, the man in front quickly pulling a sawed off from his coat.

"Howdy!" The man called out. "Which way to the Commons?" He held the shotgun loosely at his waist.

"Is this some sort of test? Some code word?" Hall whispered to Mother.

"How should I know?" Mother waved to the man. "Over yonder I suppose!" He yelled back. Pointing back where the caravan had come from. The members looked at one another and a small argument seemed to erupt.

"What are you saying?" Hall had pulled the revolver and cocked the hammer into position and set it back in its holster. Mother tightened his sling on his rifle. Looking past Hall to the caravan party.

"Maybe they're lost."

"Lost? They live out here for crying out loud Mother. They look suspicious." Hall looked back over his shoulder, as Mother rolled his eyes. The Captain had very formal training and only saw little bits of life outside. Other than supervising sweeper crews and gathering human specimens, he had little "street smarts". And this agitated Mother greatly. The only reason the Captain was here was to add a bit of official flavor, he thought.

"We got lost in the night. Lost our bearings. Wondering if you know where…where we are!" Called the man, nodding with the other members in his crew. "Come over here, hands up, maybe we have some supplies you need for helping us!"

Hall and Mother looked at one another and shrugged, put their hands up and walked over. They were trained to view most of these vagabonds as harmless; but that was with power armor and heavy weapons. They realized this mid stride, and regretted their decision.

"This is stupid, you know that right." Hall said smiling through his teeth.

"You're commanding officer, just following you. Sir." Mother waved a hand at the caravan, smiling. Spitting viciously to the side, and trying to appear friendly.

"Just be ready to gun and run."

"Copy."

When they finally reached the caravan the man took their weapons and gave a quick pat down. There were two armed women, and another man.

"This here is my family." The man said slowly shifting his gaze, noticing how strangely the men gawked at the people, as if they were aliens. "My wife, Donna, our girl here, we caller her Reese, and this here is my brother, Sonny. You can call me Hank." He nodded his head, where sat quite a nice beige pre-war hat with no visual defects. As a matter of fact, all of them were nicely dressed in prewar garments, not the usual patchwork of pockets and junk, and well armed.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Locke, this here is Gibbons. We're not really from here, came up here in search of work." Said Hall. A natural with people.

"And what kinda work DO you do?" Pried Hank, his family eyeing them back with weapons slung over their shoulders like a casual painting of hunters. Actually spot on, Hall thought, he kinda admired the sight.

"Well, a number of things. Mostly repairing, anything from a radio to a reactor, to a broken guitar. Also been known to do doctoring, if such dire situation demands it!" Said Hall cheerily with a wink. Which only repulsed them a step back.

"Riiiight." Drawled the man. "Welp. Tell you what there, mr. slick hair shiny shoes. You help me repair some of this lot, point us in the right direction, I might have something…" He looked over Hall distastefully. "… More your speed." He glanced back at his brother who nodded. Hall and Mother looked at one another, but were interrupted by the sound of weapons being swung in their direction. "Unless you're just a liar. Waiting to-"

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. Nothing…" Laughed Hall. "We just were in a hurry, not a hurry, late. We were kinda running on a tight schedual and well…well what the hell, you spare some food, we'll get to work." Hall said finally, Mother ready to help untie the bulk load. "You do have tools?"

"'Course we do. Then its a deal! Lets head on over out of sight. Donna! Donna! Get the supper. Hank, grab them tools out the box there. Reese you keep an eye out girl."

"Yes papa." She saluted Hank and shouldered her rifle.

And they set to work. It was actually quite relaxing. They talked about D.C. and its inhabitants, Hall nearly drooling over hearing what the popular mindset of the people was out here as they tinkered with all sorts of things. Converted A/C units, vacuum tubes, T.V. and radio units, coffee makers, portable ovens, generators, and a multitude of rare make assault weapons. A load that suited this band of traders, everything was of unusually high quality.

They sat in a small clearing under a tree that had sprouting a few tuffs of radioactive grass. They were welcoming, all said and done, Hall was taken aback. Mother was preoccupied standing sentry with the girl, Reese. He could see him pointing to different things and teaching her a bit of soldering, as they practiced mock drills. Finally dinner was stewed up: Squirrel bits in Blacmo Mac an' Cheese, absolutely amazing, Hall thought. Must be something else too, the cheese was so creamy and the squirrel really tasted so crisp and seasoned, spicy.

They were not what they had expected to run into, these wastelanders. The girl had strawberry hair tied up in a bun, with not a hair out of place, Must have been no older than 13, and surprisingly had a vocabulary on par with the folks back home, which she used to tell crazy stories of mutants and damsels, unfortunately for Hall, who obviously thought it to be such a waste. His wife Donna was a solemn woman with dark curly hair, and deep set eyes which looked precariously at these new strangers. A bit thick, but well toned, she was quiet as a mouse. Hank and his brother Sonny were alike in appearance except that Hank was bald. Gaunt long faces with big beards that enveloped their faces. They were mostly all business, yet not too versed on maintaining their supplies. It had been a fortunate run in; as Hall was forced to, more than willing, showed them how to fix many things (to conceal their affiliations). They sat in a circle with a small fire, not more than coals, as they talked to one another.

"So this Enclave or whatever. You're saying they do exist?" Hank laughed, and prodded his brother while Hall did the best to suppress strangling the man right then and there.

"From what I've heard. And I hear they are going to reform this entire area back into a real city." Hall said as nonchalant as he could, yet making it seem as though it was truly a possibility.

"Well they better hurry their butts up." Said Donna, unimpressed by this phantom government.

"Right." Sonny nodded in agreement, between spoonfuls of cheesy mac and squirrel.

"So then those eyerobuts were telling the truth, heh. Never paid much mind to robuts. Things just as soon shoot a man then to tell the truth. Like those armored 'uns downtown. Meanest sons of bitches I'd ever met. Just as soon kill a man for having a radio set. Seen it too." His weary eyes glancing up to his brother who silently nodded in agreement. "Those bastards. The day they grazed us with their damned presence, as if things weren't bad already. Now we got these knuckleheads claiming everything they can, ha. Like a dog, pissin' on fire hydrants." He shook his hand like a wild hose.

"I hear they're gonna take care of them too." Hall said, eagerly.

"And how do'you know so much about this Enclave, Mr. Locke?" Hank snapped, obviously annoyed with this Enclave business.

"Well, I've read about them. Part of the reason we're trying to make it to the National Mall. To try to get more information to help them." Hank looked down to his meal while Hall quickly shrugged at Mother who was staring 'danger' at him.

"Hm. Well sounds like a bad idea. Place is a nest of mutants. You ever see a mutant wielding a minigun, or rocket launcher? Sure you haven't, cause that's be the last damn thing you'd see." Mother had started to laugh as Hank swung around to glare at him. Mother pretended it was something caught in his throat and did his best to cough to cover up his laughter. "Like I was saying. Between them metal bastards and the mutants, you won't get far."

"Any way you'd be able to give us some, tips? Maybe a route that is overlooked?"

"Well sure." He looked at his wife Donna who shook her head, knowing that they were walking into their graves. "I mean…Only if you're really sure about going through with it."

"Please, we'd even give you this for any information on those brutish robots as well." Hall twisted around and pulled the bottle of Quantum from his coat. Reese's eyes widened and glossed over the ignited blue florescent glass bottle. She tugged on Hanks shirt.

"Well, just try not to do anything too foolhardy for this Enclave. I doubt they care as much as you think." He drew up a map and told them what he knew of the Brotherhood of Steel activity. It seemed solid, and he had no reason to be lying. They went to bed with Mother on guard.

The next morning they parted ways, it seemed The Commons wasn't more than a few miles away, at the settlement they say the day before. Mother waved Reese over and bent down to her.

"Remember what I told you now!" Mother said in a grave tone.

"Every bullet I don't shoot at raiders is a raider I spare." She recited, trying to remember the exact words. "If they come around, I'll shoot and not stop. Aiming is only something you do when you get better at killing 'em first." She happily chirped aloud. He held out his giant hand and she gave him a high five. They all smiled and shook hands with the each other and parted ways; Hank not forgetting his end of the deal gave them a small package upon departing.

"What a smart girl." Mother said proudly watching the caravan shrink in the distance. "What'd we get?" He peeked over at the package as Hall unwrapped the cloth it was in. It was heavy, which is good, unless it was a explosive. Slowly he peeled back the layers till finally there it sat. An intact and pristine Pip-Boy 3000.

"I could hold onto it." Mother complained as they walked down a hill towards D.C. Hall wore the Pip-Boy as Mother continued to ask why it couldn't be him who got it. Knowing full well his arms were too big to strap the device to.

"I said, that'll be all, Sergeant!" Hall ordered. One thing about the Enclave, which was quite apparent now, was how dependent they are on technology. It was like a cushion, where they were aloof and carefree. The Power Armor, energy weapons, digitizing and computing, all of their lives.

"Looks like there's some sort of signal, up over there." Said the captain adjusting some of the knobs on the Pip-Boy, pointing towards the elevated broken highway.

"Better skip it." said Mother. They were caught in between a small trading community and the defunct Wheaton armory.

"Lose your nerve? We can get a better lay of the land from that elevated position anyway." Hall stumbled across the arid landscape, towards the ramp leading up to where the unknown signal was emanating from. Mother followed, looking around cautiously.

They walked around the twisted metal casks of cars strewn about on the deserted freeway, skeletons lying around in fleeing positions, their burnt remains cast long shadows in the midday sun. The signal was growing stronger, and clearer as they approached a large shipping truck. Finally, when they reached the truth they looked inside to some sort of radio center. It was relatively squared away, and much cleaner, as if it was recently abandoned. There were files and desks, along with a large radio center, the source of the mysterious signal. Upon closer examination, they found piles of documents, all in chinese, along with various training manuals and ammunition.

"Looks like a dead end. Nothing useful here." Hall said throwing the files to the floor in irritation. "Dammit."

"Eh. What do you think they were doing here?"

"Doesn't matter. Must have been some CQ. Wait. Do you hear something?"

"Whaat? No, nothing." Mother continued to brush through the contents of the truck, scattering miscellaneous junk around in disinterest.

"Shhhh!" The captain sputtered out, closing his eyes trying to recognize the noise. Ah. Some sort of timer. Explosives? He started stared overturning the radio equipment in search of the timer. Finally he found it, the digitized red numbers: 23;04:01 slowly counting down. He followed the wires and saw they linked up to some sort of hub.

"Found it." He quickly turned on the monitor on the desk and started to de-crypt the system; his formal education included learning chinese, as a sort of "what if" scenario. (He did not have the proper connections to hook up the Pip-Boy directly, having it do all the work.) It only took a minute and finally the green flicker of the screen came to life. It showed a number of highlighted points on a map of the D.C. area. Must be old intel. He quickly memorized the map, before standing and blasting the screen with his pistol.

Mother was crouched out on the highway looking at the land through the looking glass when he heard the muffled pistol shot. He paid little mind, hopefully that was the last he'll see of Hall, he wistfully thought. Just then the Captain came and asked for a status repot.

"There's definitely activity down of at Wheaton. But otherwise it's quite. Thought I saw your mother." He added quickly.

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Ugly thing, big eyes like saucers, wings, fat and plump, shoots barbed stingers from..." Mother smiled, taking down the glass.

"Give me those." Hall snatched the glass and did a survey of his own. Nothing but raiders. And a few solitary bloatflies drifting lazily by a canister of toxic waste. He lowered the glass and put them away.

"Comedic. On your feet. I want to make it to the outskirts by tonight, and be in by tomorrow."

"How about I carry you on my back as well, Captain." but Hall was too busy finding the best route down into the outskirts of the D.C. metropolis. The twisted buildings created a death maze, yet the Washington Mall was not dug too far in, yet the mention of mutants was disconcerting.

Mutants. Mother knew all too well the brute force of these monstrous hulking bullet sponges. The Gen. 2 Mutants were bad enough, and how they managed to stake claim out here was by nothing more than a accidental miracle. And Vault 87 of all places. The high command was having conniptions of how to deal with the problem. He sat and watched as the Captain looked out on the city. Mother was weary of the trip, and thought of if he could kill the Captain and escape, he would. He pondered this.

The skyline was filled with a dark smoke. Fires were burning all around the city, as distant gunfire could be heard. Sometimes a flare would be seen shooting into the sky, slowly drifting down, like a leaf down a dying tree, Hall smiled wickedly, as he licked his lips and pursed them together, "Finally…" He was ready to see this war first-hand. Ready to kick these ungrateful squatters out. Trying to snuff out every trace of the Brotherhood. He only wished the NCR was here so he could dismantle them as well.

Mother stretched his rifle above his head. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

 **Thanks for taking the time to take a look at my story. I always appreciate the feedback if you have the time. The story should be taking more solid form in the next few chapters, sorry for any confusion as to where the plot stands, in case you're ready to give up on it.**


	4. Chapter 3

The crackle of gunfire had died down. Washington D.C.: there was not a place more downtrodden and ruined. People huddled under bunkers of cinderblock; under ruined highways and bridges as gunfire rained down from the tall D.C. office building windows. Savage dogs wrestled one another for bits of human remains in the sewage filled streets of downtown as Mutants clamored around in nonsensical patterns looking for hapless unarmed humans; doomed to be exposed to the vats of F.E.V. in Vault 87. Dragging their victims screaming thru the streets as vagabond onlookers gawked, shielding the eyes of the younger dwellers from the horrors of everyday life.

Up on the horizon a trio of Brotherhood of Steel Paladins stood on the melted asphalt street. Their grayed armor catching shimmers of fading light. They marched into the fray; the heavy foot falls of the T-45d all in unison as they unleashed a barrage of armor piercing slugs from their cannons.

"Adjust fire right!" The soldier in the middle yelled out, as a mutant fumbled a grenade in his hands, unable to pull the dainty pin from its slot. His body being shredded in the crossfire as the tracers from the Vulcan personal Mini-Gun arced towards the mutants.

"Arrrgh! Stupid humans! I will tear your lungs out!" Roared another, emptying the clips of his assault rifles, that he held in both of his hands. The bullets pinging off the armor clad soldiers in a shower of sparks and radioactive ash. Suddenly a terrific explosion left a goo-filled crater, as a shower of mutant parts were scattered on the roadside, eliminating the last of the threat. Suddenly the young man was re-united with his family, as they came to thank the Paladins.

"Go back to your holes, wastelanders." Said the lead. The others chuckling and shaking their heads, while they dropped large canisters and reloaded. The grateful people did as they were told, to fight out another day in D.C.

"Fucking wastelanders. Can't wait to get outta this shit-hole." One of the paladins said, etching a hash-mark with a combat knife on his shoulder, bringing his total to twelve. Twelve mutants, eradicated.

"Well you can wish in one hand and shit in the other." The lead paladin hoisted up the missile launcher to his shoulder. "See which one fills up first."

"Ha! I'd do better stacking bodies!" He shook his head, and hammered at his helmet with a fist. A headlamp kicked on. Night was falling, and they still had nearly a full patrol to finish.

"Looks like they've resumed the patrol." Hall said, lowering the binoculars, nudging Mother who was emptying the last drops of water into his mouth from a bottle. He was anxious, yet they had been bogged down for some time, as his anxiety turned to boredom.

They were crouched behind some bombed out concrete barrier. They had listened to the firefight, rationing out the last of the purified water as they faced the Potomac, watching the green waters lap and fold out in the ocean. Hall thought…

T-45d Power Armor; a formidable piece of hardware. In the right hands. More of a utility suit when compared to the more venerable T-51b. Hall scribbled some notes in a pad, flipping the cover over and looking at Mother.

"This isn't going to be a walk in the park, Sergeant."

"Yessir. You know. This isn't my first rodeo either."

"A what?!" Hall looked over at him. Mother smiled. "Listen. We have one shot. And I'm not going to be caught in the metro with those tin-plated imposters."

"It's the safest route. You heard what those traders said. Topside is crawling with Brotherhood and mutants. The worst we'll have to deal with are some junkies and some molerats." Mother slumped down, and checked the clip of ammo in his rifle. He was down to 23 rounds. Even he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"If we're caught, it's gonna be your ass, Sergeant." Hall said in his grim tone.

He stood and motioned to Mother as they made their way through the abandoned city ruins. The slunk low behind cars and through busses. Crawling at some points, trying to be as stealth as possible. It seemed to be working. Even though it took two hours to move seven blocks to the metro station. Once in sight, they dashed down the stairs through the abandoned terminal to the main platform. Lights flickered, illuminating a fine film of dust that lay undisturbed on the rails and passenger cars that were still sitting as they have, waiting for it's passengers, nearly 200 years ago.

They did a quick reconnoiter of the station platform. It was mostly picked clean. They rummaged through some old suitcases and gathered what they could. Hall secretly pocketing some cologne.

Mother emptied a bag dismissively, across the empty concrete benches the contents drifted and fell. A book fell out. He picked it up.

"The Legend of Black Hall Manor." He said aloud. He flipped through to the first chapter. "The dark past of the Black Hall Manor spans through the ages. It's history is one of seedy rituals and demonic possession…" He turned the book over and slid it into his back pocket.

"Captain Hall!" He shouted as the captain poked his head out from the train station scheduling board, overlaying the drawn map to the one on the board.

"Have you ever heard of moderation Mother?! Keep your voice down, for crying out loud!" Hall impatiently sputtered. Mother joined him at the board.

"Any luck?"

"Yeaaah…" Hall was busy, his eyes flitting from the board to the drawn map. "Looks like we're a little north George Town. Lucky. Metro Central will be just close enough. We can't make a direct entrance to the Mall, just to be safe. If we hurry. We can make it there in a few hours." He entered the coordinates in the Pip-Boy.

They started down the tracks. It was a slow trek. Hall refused to use the light on the Pip-Boy as they stumbled in the pitch.

Night vision; about 20 mins. and your pupils should be dilated fully. The stench was horrendous. For all they knew they could be sloshing down a river of garbage, and human waste, decomposing bodies…They tried no to think about it, yet every sense refused to let them forget.

"Should be close. And to think. We didn't even need these!" Mother tapped his pocket, as the loose stimpaks fell through a hole. "For crying out loud. Hold on Captain…" He bent down groping for the stimpaks. He finally gathered them together and stood up slowly. Under an emergency light, he could see the faint outline of Hall, looking down the tracks. He was about to say something, but fought the urge and walked up beside Hall.

Down the tracks, about 20 metres, was a huddled group of men and woman, all hunched and breathing loudly over some source of food. It was hard to tell how many in the shadows. They started to rise. Their heads looking up, sensing them two men, almost like wild dogs.

"C'mon Sergeant, lets get outta here."

But Mother was too curious about these under dwellers. He lowered his body down to see the figures more properly against the faint light. The rotters began to turn towards them, expelling their rancor in hisses.

"Mother…" Hall tugged on the Sergeant's shoulder.

"Yeah. You're right, lets go…" They turned and headed back towards a maintenance door, most likely headed to the surface.

As they ran they could hear the sick slapping of bare feet and bones cracking as the ferals picked up speed behind them, leaving the carcasses of unfortunate explorers to be picked clean by rats and dogs.

In an instant, the group spanned the entire width of the train tunnel. A hand from under some rubble grabbed at Mother's leg, and then it seemed they were surrounded; gnashing and clawing at the two men in the darkness. Suddenly there was a deafening ringing from Hall's pistol. The muzzle flash disorienting Mother in the darkness. Followed by another, and another. He caught glimpses of Hall's face, suicidal, determined to kill them all.

"I have to reload! Get to the door! Mother!" Hall yelled, limping back towards the exit, emptying the brass, and reloading. Mother could barely hear anything except the ringing in his skull. Then Hall started shooting again.

"Cut that out! I can't see a fucking thing!" Mother yelled, smashing some of the lunging ferals with the chinese assault rifle as they grabbed onto him.

"What?!" Hall said in confusion, as he continued to shoot.

"Will you stop that!"

"What?! Door-Mat?! What are you saying?!" The Sergeant turned and made a mad dash to the exit, pulling the Captain by his collar, as the hammer of his pistol beat down on empty chambers. The door was jammed. As the ferals clamored their way through the door into the hallway filling it with their decayed bodies.

"Great…" Mother stepped back and shot the door wildly. It opened to the street. It was night, and even some street lights still functioned. They ran through the street with a hoard of ferals in tow. Mother turned and emptied the last of his clip into the crowd, felling a few to the ground and thinning them out. "Eat this you spineless zombies!" He popped the pin from the grenade and let it charge before tossing it into the mass. He turned around and continued to run; Hall was at the end of the block reloading his pistol, pointing to something around the corner. He felt the concussion and shockwave but didn't look back; he knew it did it's job. Hall disappeared around the corner.

Once he made it he saw a street sign. Vernon Sq. and saw the giant monuments of the Capital Mall, just a few blocks away. Hall signaled him over.

"We made it Mother." He said.

As their hearing slowly returned, all they could hear were the battles of downtown erupting. Feeling the tremors of explosions in the ground.

"Don't be too sure." He threw the empty rifle to the ground and started walking.

"What the heck are you doing?"

"Don't worry, Captain. I trust you. And that…Pea-shooter." He grinned. Hall looked down at the pistol, his hands slightly shaky.

"Funny thing isn't it?" Hall said inspecting the handgun, popping the cylinder and immediately whipping it back into position, slightly adjusting it till it set with a click.

"I'm not sure. You alright Captain?"

"Fine. Lets get moving."

They moved into the Mall area. It was heavily bombed out, with trenches dug in a maze thru the center. Several mutants patrolled with mini guns and rocket launchers. Hall rubbed his eyes in disbelief when he saw one with a gatling laser. Those Brotherhood nitwits! Might as well hand them a M.I.R.V. while they're at it.

They were slinking through the ruins when they approached a ghoul, as it was….smoking? Hall lifted the pistol and aimed for the head.

"What's the matter hon. You some kind of ghoul bigot?" She turned around, a half smoked cigarette in her cracked mouth, a chinese assault rifle slung low at her waist. Mother covered the barrel of tHall's pistol with his hand, lowing it and revealing Hall's malicious eyes behind the iron sights.

"Ma'am. Do we look like bigots?" Mother said. The woman looked at the two. She wore a red and black leather armor pattern, with bandoliers strapped around her chest. Her hair wilting and her skin was loose, cracked and peeling at the edges.

"You look like a pair of tourists."

"Good…" Hall whispered.

"What was that?" She charged the bolt with her forearm, letting one hand cover the top front end of the barrel, casually aiming at them from her waist.

"Who do you think you are? Some kind of cowgirl?" Mother laughed, back-handing Hall in the chest. Hall stood with his arms crossed, scoffing at the ghoul. She pulled the rifle into more of a intimidating pose at her shoulder.

"Whoa! I'm just kidding. Take it easy!" Said Mother as Hall pulled his pistol on the ghoul. She looked at the pair, and spit the cigarette out on the cement.

"Fuck you, you bigots…" She pulled the trigger. But the striker must have hit an inactive primer. Pre-war ammo.

A shocked Sergeant walked briskly over to Hall, forcefully taking the pistol from him.

"You were gonna let this bitch shoot me? And not kill her!?" He turned with the pistol and pulled the trigger. Nothing.

He opened the chamber, there was an empty chamber. "You were bluffing?!" His eyes lit in rage, as sweat rolled down his face.

The ghoul had ejected the dud, and had them both in her sights.

"Excuse me, fellas." Her raspy voice cut through the air.

"Screw off!" Mother yelled as gunfire grazed over his head. Oh, you bitch…He turned and shot over her right shoulder, she didn't budge. She shot again, right in front of them, kicking debris in their face, the bullet ricocheting wildly off to the right. Mother shot again, so close to her face it took bits of hair and left a cut on her face. She shot at Hall, the bullet giving a nasty flesh would on his leg.

The charade continued for a few moments before thunderous foot steps of a mutant could be felt approaching.

"Mutants." They said in unison.

"This way!" The ghoul said, motioning them to a building.

"Are you nuts?!"

"Do you wanna face that thing alone, good luck tourists." She turned and ran inside.

"You were gonna let her shoot me." Mother said.

"Get back Sergeant, you're out of line!"

"You didn't even have one in the tube, you coward, sonofabitch!" Mother was yelling into Hall's face.

"I said get back!" Hall pushed past him and darted into the building, Mother pursuing close behind. They made it to the main foyer where stood giant animals on two stands.

"I saved you in those tunnels and this is how you repay me? By letting a rotter shoot me in the face? You're a sick man." He shivered in disgust.

"I'd just as soon shoot you myself if I wanted you dead." Hall said. Mother tossed him the pistol

"Then lets see it old man. Gimme your best shot!"

"Don't test me.." Hall checked the pistol.

"I wasn't going to shoot to kill." Said the same female ghoul voice off to the side. She was standing the entire time waiting for the men to come inside.

"Obviously. Your aim is worst than your stench rot-face." Mother growled.

"Willow."

"Willow what? What?" Hall said glaring over at her.

"My name smooth skin."

"Smooth skin? What? What the hell are you saying?" They both faced her. "If you weren't so nosey in the first place and kept your head in the sand, we'd not have a mutant sniffing around outside." Hall holstered his pistol. He looked at the blood running down his leg. "Great."

"Why don't you run along?" Mother said imitating a pair of walking legs with his fingers. "Can't believe you shot him."

"Mindless rot-face." Hall said, sitting down, dizzy from loss of blood. He put his head in his hands.

"You okay? Hey..Hey!" The words echoed as the Captain fell unconscious onto the floor.

Hall woke up slowly. Taking in the surroundings. He noticed Mother sitting in a chair, staring deeply into the book he had recovered from the metro. He turned the page slowly.

"Good to see you awake." He said, muttering parcels of the book to himself.

"I'm not strapped down am I?"

"No…Nope!" Mother said slapping the book closed. "You're not gonna believe where we are Captain…"

"Don't remind me…" Hall looked around. It was a sight out of a butcher shop. "Oh shit…Don't tell me we're lunch."

The Sergeant sighed. "Worse. He looked at Hall. "We've befriended the ghouls…Some sawbones did some nifty work on you. Hell…Even had blood to donate."

Hall shuddered…what in the Sam Hill is going on. He sat up. "The ferals in the subway, I can't remember…What's going on?" Hall said rubbing his head.

"That wasn't a nightmare. Hell…" Mother chuckled. "I thought you was gonna drop to your belly, like a gecko, firing in all directions." He cleared his throat and re-opened the book. Hall laughed, as it turned into a fit of hacking. He spit up some blood.

"Yessir. We're in some sort of feral safe-haven." A disinterested Mother said. Hall shook his head.

"We have to get out of here." Hall stood, looking at his leg which was patched up. "Now."

Mother shrugged. He stood, handing the pistol to the Captain.

"After you."

Hall bust through the doors, squinting his eyes, trying to readjust his vision. A Mr. Handy approached, growling.

"The heck?" Hall said as he drearily pushed against the machination. Soon Ghouls lined the upper story railing, watching the two men make their haphazard escape.

"Good luck smooth skins!" Some yelled, laughing at the two men.

They entered the foyer, Hall collapsing at the base of some giant skeleton of a monstrous beast.

"Up an' atom, Captain." The Sergeant said, sightly embarrassed by his commanding officer, helping him to his feet.

"We're moving!" Hall said, stumbling towards the from entrance.

They made their way to the Archives, without incident.

They sat on a old wooden bench. Hall still swooning, as the Sergeant reconnoitered the area. Footfalls of a Protectron stomped towards them. Hall readied the pistol, hefting the piece towards the approaching robot. Mother had just returned, and saw the Captain, wavering.

The protectron came into view. It was wearing some sort of wig? Mother caught a shadow darting in his peripheral. He grabbed Hall's arm, pointing the pistol in the figure's direction.

"Who's there?" He said, taking full control of the revolver.

"Stand down." A woman's voice said.

"You stand down!" Mother shot a round into the wall where the woman hid herself.

Slowly she stepped out; clad in official Enclave officer's uniform a tri-beam focused on them. Mother eyed her suspiciously.

He let Hall fall to the floor on all fours.

"That's a nice piece." He pointed to the black carbine wearily. Not taking the pistol's sights from her.

"We've been waiting." She looked at her watch. "You're over-due." as snide as a remake can be.

"Yeah. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park." The captain coughed from the floor.

"He's expecting you." The woman said, walking to the rotunda and activating a lift.

"Who?"

"The Major." She said in a cool tone.

Mother draped the Captain's arm over his shoulder and helped him to the lift.

It was a quiet ride down to the lower level. The woman brushing her hair with her hand, teasing it a bit. Hall still woozy, stood himself up, bushing his suit off, trying to look respectable. Unaware of the bloodstains and grime plastered to it.

The lift came to a sudden stop, jolting the party. The woman, led them down the halls. The robot in tow, marching in rhythm.

Her figure was toned and she was very attractive; she had perfect rosie cheeks and a smile that made a man feel the world. Her blonde hair was cropped up, bouncing soothingly, and her uniform didn't have stress seam anywhere. Hall admired it all the way to the main door of a sealed chamber.

The door opened.

There their contact stood. A man no older than thirty. He wore MK II APA, the devilish helmet sat on the semi-circular wooden desk behind him. Hall immediately noticed the open books, and documents on the desk. The Sergeant's eyes fixed on the urban plasma rifle.

"You've made it." He said.


	5. Chapter 4

The woman casually walked and sat at the desk, putting on a pair of glasses, shuffling the papers.

"Major. Detachment two-zero-baker-one, reporting to-"

But the Major paid little attention. He brushed his dark hair back.

He faced Hall, the large Enclave 'E' engraved on his left breastplate, as a few loose Brotherhood of Steel dog-tags jingled on a cord attached to his belt; he wore a large tattered grey cape, Hall wondering the significance of it.

The Major: Continued service for over 60 years. Asked to enter the Secret Service, under the pretense that he donate his body to cybernetic research; they restored his entire body, as it was, heavily scarred and burned from long fought battles across many territories putting the Major into stasis until needed; Of course he agreed…he owed the Enclave that much. I suppose. He walked back over and sat in his chair. Hall tracking his movements.

Eventually, after another successful prototype had been destroyed, it was time to retrieve him from stasis. He was given a job as a field agent, recording and gathering data. The Enclave had been running it's duties, and now introduced this new...subroutine.

They had found something, quite large, and sent him to gather and dispose all traces of whatever it was.

Some sort of satellite crash. Scientists, engineers, and technicians…Places were in full gear. Places like Big M.T., and Sky Lab V. Suddenly leaps were made from projectile, to laser, to plasma, within years…New composites were being ushered out, things like Saturnine had finally been declassified. Also cybertronics, and artificial intelligence, robotics were the new front. They even looked into the possibilities of ESP.

"You're late."

"Sir! We encountered Brotherhood resistance. Due to our supplies, we had to improvise and take a longer route." The Captain half-lied. The Major stared at the sad sight, the poor excuse held little water. He stood motionless, expressionless. It was as if he was not even there, mentally. Hall studied him and took a guess.

"WHAT, are you…" The Captain said after the eerie silence, his eyes looking over the Major in a grimace.

"Very good Captain…" Came a sinister reply. "You know very well I am not human. Or fully, human."

Cyborg.

Hall knew very well of such projects by the Enclave. Human Enhancement Logic and Logistics. Most were in charge of strategic and tactile planning; A sort of half human, half computer worst case scenario databank. Consider a walking death machine, with unlimited resources and no identity. You'd never see it coming. Scarier yet. This one was free. Who knew exactly what his real motives were; most had to be…dismantled, due to unexpected "logic", being too unpredictable.

"So." Hall said. "What's the plan." Trying to appeal to it's strategic mindset. Meanwhile Mother had joined the woman at the desk, looking through the documents, casually worried.

"Plans…" it said wearily, shaking his head.

Not a good sign.

"Don't you have 'em?" Mother said jokingly, looking up at the Major. There was a twitch in it's eye. It sighed.

"Sergeant Popps. Weapons expert…Proficiency in hand-to-hand and demolitions, assigned to Fox unit; curious…a engineer division. Captain Hall…" A piercing look over to the Captain. "Quite a impressive resume…Chemical engineer. As well as Civil and Electrical. Bio-engineer, assigned to deathclaw recovery. As well as…bio-disposal? Such a waste…" He looked at the two men, clearing his throat. "Did you like our surprise Captain?"

"What surprise. What are you talking about." Hall said, trying to figure the man out.

"The deathclaw."

"Wha-?" But the only deathclaw he could think about was the lone cub they encountered at the reservoir. "At the reservoir?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I contacted your previous unit, and called in a favor. It wasn't as intelligent as we first assumed. It had only finished the first few sessions. We thought it was a perfect time for a test-run. We tried to have it stalk you for the trip. But somewhere the control module was damaged and we had to abandon it. Hm." He looked at them seriously, before continuing his report.

"Both men, awarded for honors in their respective departments. Yet…both seem to think this is some sort of…camping trip." He walked over and took the Captain's arm, looking at the Pip-Boy, he scoffed. He then looked over to Mother, striding over to him confidently. He pulled the book from his pocket. Flipped the pages and tossed it back to the Sergeant. "Is that…" He sniffed the air. "Cologn?" He followed the scent back to the Captain. He stopped and waved off the woman, who retreated out a side door.

"A pilot." He said, watching her leave. "Came under heavy fire and crashed on top of a building down here. Her co-pilot was crushed in the landing. Yet the cargo was successfully recovered by her expertise…She made it fourteen. Fourteen city blocks, unarmed, avoiding all detection to this rendezvous, where we worked every day to bring the cargo back." He flinched. "Yet you two…" He turned away from them, hiding his twisted face. "Somehow managed to talk and bullshit your way here. Taking handouts, and relying on the…wasteland, to just take care of you?" He pulled a Pancor Jackhammer, auto-twelve gauge from his back. "Unfortunately we have no need of you anymore. Good-bye."

It was an unbelievable ruckus. The concussions of the rifle reverberated heavily in their chest cavities shaking them to the very core of their belief of this mission. They shook as tremors took over their bodies. Yet the slugs pounded relentlessly around them. As the Pancor chugged rhythmically. Finally it stopped; bits of burnt paper and ceiling drifted down.

"Ha!" Said a jubilant Major. "You should see yourselves. A Captain and Sergeant…" He smiled.

"Are you outta your mind, you commie sonofabitch!" The Sergeant said.

"No…Mother." He slapped the bolt closed. "But I question who you REALLY work for, cause right now, it sure as hell isn't the Enclave. The moment I saw you, I knew; You'll be the one to blow this whole objective."

"Why don't you tell us, what this mission is!" Hall said, uncovering his ears. He swore. If he'd go deaf, he'd make sure everyone else would hear his bitching.

"Lieutenant Byrnes! Fill these….Scientists..in on our objective."

Byrnes strode into the room, as cool as a ice cube on a summer day. Immediately she started talking.

"Well, basically…" She looked to the Major uncertainly. "We're to dismantle the Delta IX rocket and Virgo II landing craft, and SOMEHOW, move the parts back to Site R." She said, accentuating her irritability of the situation.

"I did not crash the vertibird, Lieutenant." The Major said harshly.

"Riight." Said Hall.

"We've already stripped the electrical systems. The Brotherhood is still too busy with the mutant threat, to start scavenging the area." The Major sat at the desk. Opening a folder and looking through its contents. He looked up.

"I guess you've been wondering what I've been doing?"

"Indulge us. Please. Major." Hall said, reassuming his composure.

"I've been here six months; The Enclave sent me to recover artifacts of the old world…The Declaration of Independence, documents such as the Magna Carta. Star maps from Tycho Brahe…Inaccurate as they are…" He took a deep breath. "They even wanted me to recover Ol' Abe, that dirty Yankee Buzzard. Which I found out perished a long time ago, along with other stuffed curiosities. Dead animals…Artifacts from the old world to adorn the halls and rooms of Site R. Ever wonder where those paintings come from? The small statuettes? The old suits of armor and swords found hanging on the walls. Well, at last. They find I'm useful enough to recover something worth of value. Or it was because I…deviated from my initial mission, and this was the punishment. These things belong to more than just…."

Suddenly Hall felt as though this was what these things were dismantled for. Mother had a gut feeling this might be the end as he chose a path to the plasma rifle.

"I was packing the Declaration of Independence away. As I did so, I was admiring the signatures on the document. Such beautiful script. Then, against my duties, I started to read the document. By the end, I knew the futility of my mission. So I abandoned it; reporting the artifacts had perished or were missing. Keeping them safe, where I would sometimes explore and look at them as did the people of the past. I became, obsessed with keeping these things safe…After losing contact with Site R, I was on standby. I survived, alone, amongst a treasure trove of history. Spending my days reading volumes of books in the library, endless volumes. Finally they contacted me." He looked up at the three people.

They were stunned.

"After months of sitting around, the call finally came. They needed an inside source. I was planted down here in case such a plan ever got past the bickering at those damn conferences, I was relieved." He paused and coughed to the side. "This is well above every one of your pay grades, so take heed." He looked up towards the ceiling as if it were a skylight leading out to a bright world, restored. "Our battles are being fought on more than one front. We are expanding our front lines to include space. To recover the old space station and satellites, and from there launch a full scale orbital strike." The Major laughed, almost hysterically, he regained composure.

"It is well known…Among the upper echelons, that upon recovery of such places as Vault Zero, or even Site R, that the technology was far too advanced. Yet there was so much missing intel, that it kept the technology at a standstill. We needed to fill those gaps, and recover as much as we could." He wiped his face with both hands. "So here we are."

"What exactly are you saying Major?" Byrnes said, stepping closer.

"That our victory, lies in the recovery of a few key assets." He clenched his jaw at the enormous amount of information he needed to reveal. "The Russian space station Mir has already reentered and crashed. The Bloomfield site was heavily compromised and ultimately abandoned; along with other projects, such as the B.O.M.B. 001 and Hermes XIII, there are nuclear low-orbiting high-yield weapon platforms. But ultimately we aim to restart these projects. It is unclear whether these sites have survived. Yet our projections show that the personel lost recovering these sites, outweighs the trouble in the first place."

"Your kidding right?" Mother said. "Cause you better be." He slammed his fists into the air. "This is unbelievable!"

"Stand fast Sergeant!" Hall said, holding is arm out stiffly. He looked to the Lieutenant, who shook her head, removing her glasses and cleaning the lenses. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes." He pulled the plasma rifle towards him as it beamed to life. "I understand if you want to leave. Don't worry, I will say you never made contact." Byrnes walked over and stood by Hall and Mother. "However. There is one thing. Even you might have forgot."

Hall thought for a moment. As Mother continued to swear and mutter behind him.

"Shut up Mother! SHUT UP!" Hall continued to think. "The G.E.C.K." Hall finally said.

"Apt response Captain Hall. I thought it would take you at least an hour before you came to the troublesome conclusion."

"So this is just a…contingency plan? In case there is no way to recover the G.E.C.K.?"

"Somewhat. Of course, naturally we will continue this project, regardless. We are to inspect these assets, one by one."

"But I thought you said it was too risky to lose manpower for these sites." Mother injected.

"It is. The Enclave will lose four high ranking officers, and their respective knowledge. Some of the best in their fields. Who will be the replacements?"

"So what? They are just going to cart us around all over?" Hall laughed, Mother and Byrnes joining in. This was getting to be a bit dangerous.

"I do not presume to know WHAT the plans are. All I know is what they need to make these plans work. The reason you are here…except you." He pointed to Byrnes. "Luckily, as a veteran pilot, you are suited to join us, if you wish." He waited for a response. They looked at one another, trying to hide their astonishment.

"It's on Major." She said.

"Lets get to work." Hall said. They looked at Mother.

"Thought you'd never ask."

"Good. Your equipment is in the back room." He led them to the Enclave crates recovered from the crash. "Unfortunately you have no equipment, Byrnes. But I trust we'll get you something nice."

They opened the crates. Jackpot.

Hall's suit of MK II APA, along with his personal armaments; A brand new tri-beam laser rifle and 14mm pistol, engraved with a leaf pattern.

Mother, unfortunately had to keep his older version PA, since his frame was larger, and it had to be specially manufactured, yet the techs enhanced it as best they could; implementing tesla circuitry and fortifying the plates. He sighed relief upon spotting the MEC Gauss mini gun and 25mm grenade launcher. He picked up his ripper, and looked at it's finely polished blade and chain.

Byrnes stood back with the Major. She cradled her own tri-beam laser, confident in her own abilities, yet a bit miffed about the APA. Dammit.

The last crate contained a myriad of torches and cutting tools. Electronic gauges and smaller hand held tools. They'd each have to carry at least one small bag of tools. They returned to the main office, and sat down.

"Who's that?" Hall pointed to the wig-wearing robot.

"Oh. Him." The Major shook his head.


End file.
